mured Fitzgerald, unconsciously poaching on Breitmann's
thought.

"Yes. But they shall know nothing till we land in Corsica. And in a
day or two this fellow would have laid hands on these things and we'd
never been any the wiser."

"And may we not expect more of him?" said Breitmann.

"Small good it will do him."

"Corsica," repeated the girl dreamily.

"Ay, Napoleon. The Corsican Brothers' daggers and vendetta, the
restless island! It is full of interest. I have been there."
Breitmann smiled pleasantly at the girl, but his thought was unsmiling.
Versed as he was in reading at a glance expression, whether it lay in
the eyes, in the lips, or the hands, he realized with chagrin that he
had made a misstep somewhere. For some reason he would have given much
to know, Fitzgerald was covertly watching him.

"You have been there, too, have you not, Mr. Fitzgerald?" asked Laura.

"Oh, yes; but never north of Ajaccio."

"Laura, what a finishing touch this will give to my book." For the
admiral was compiling a volume of treasures found, lost and still being
hunted. "All I can say is, that I am really sorry that the money
wasn't used for the purpose intended."

"I do not agree there," said Fitzgerald.

"And why not?" asked Breitmann.

"France is better off as she is. She has had all the empires and
monarchies she cares for. Wonderful country! See how she has lived in
spite of them all. There will never be another kingdom in France, at
least not in our generation. There's a Napoleon in Belgium and a
Bourbon in England; the one drills mediocre soldiers and the other
shoots grouse. They will never go any further."

The secretary spread his fingers and shrugged. "If there was only a
direct descendant of Napoleon!"

"Well, there isn't," retorted Fitzgerald, dismissing the subject into
limbo. "And much good it would do if there was."

"This treasure would rightly be his," insisted Breitmann.

"It was put together to bring Napoleon back. There is no Napoleon to
bring back."

"In other words, the money belongs to the finder?"

"Exactly."

"Findings is keepings," the admiral determined. "That's Captain
Flanagan's rule."

The girl could bring together no reasons for the mind inclining to the
thought that between the two young men there had risen an antagonism of
some sort, nothing serious but still armed with spikes of light in the
eyes and a semi-truculent angle to the chin. Fitzgerald was also aw